Gone with the Flesh
Stranded on a quiet stretch of Highway 12 after running out of gas, Will and Zack discover that the forest isn’t empty—and the dead aren’t staying dead. What starts as a desperate escape from a slow-moving horde turns into something far worse when one of them breaks the rules: it runs, it thinks… and it talks.
“You’re a zombie.”
“Yes,” he said. “I’ve been called that before.”
Behind him, the slower ones were still advancing.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“I’m going to eat you.”
He said it the way someone might say, I’m going to grab coffee.
“Please don’t,” I said. “I’m studying chemistry. I’m planning on going into pharmacology. I could—hypothetically—work on reversing whatever this is.”
He tilted his head.
“That’s very touching,” he said. “Everyone says something like that. Mother would be devastated. I have plans. I’m in love. It’s repetitive.”
“I’m serious.”
He crouched down, examining me like a specimen.
“What branch of chemistry?”
“Organic.”
He paused.
“Functional groups?”
“Yes.”
He glanced back at the approaching crowd.
“You might want to stand up.”
He pulled a small metal canister from inside his coat, pressed something, and sprayed a fine mist into the air while plugging his nose.
The effect was immediate.
The horde behind him stopped.
Turned.
And shuffled back into the trees.
I stood slowly.
“What was that?”
“An ester compound,” he said. “Designed originally as a repellent. It failed in its primary objective.”
“Which was?”
“Preventing zombification.”
“You invented that?”
“Yes.”
“And instead of repelling them, it… preserved you?”
“It preserved my higher brain function,” he said. “Unfortunately, it did not prevent hunger.”
His stomach growled audibly.
From the trees, Zack crept back, hands on his knees.
“Are we alive?” he asked.
“For now,” the zombie said.
Zack stared. “He talks.”
“Yes,” the zombie replied. “We’ve established that.”
I swallowed. “You’re a scientist?”
“I was. Technically, I still am. The peer review process has suffered.”
“What do you want?” I asked.
He looked at me thoughtfully.
“Conversation,” he said. “Intellectual stimulation. Possibly cooperation.”
“And not… eating us?”
“I am hungry,” he said honestly. “But I am also curious.”
Another distant moan echoed from the forest.
He checked the canister.
“Limited supply,” he muttered.
“You two ran out of gas,” he said. “I can smell it.”
“You can?”
“Yes. Among other things.”
“Can you get us to a gas station?” I asked.
He hesitated.
“My condition complicates public interaction.”
“You don’t look that bad,” Zack said.
The zombie stared at him.
“You smell worse than I do,” Zack added.
The zombie sighed.
“I will escort you,” he said. “But this arrangement is temporary.”
“Why?” I asked.
His eyes held mine.
“Because eventually,” he said quietly, “I will need to eat.”
And this time, it didn’t sound casual.
It sounded inevitable.
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